On the Ledge
by The Fountian Pen
Summary: When Gracie Williams arrived at Hillman-Grant Academy that morning, she never expected her school to be besieged by armed gunman.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _Hawaii Five-0_ it is without prejudice property of CBS, K/O Paper Products, CBS Productions (season 1–2), CBS Television Studios (season 3–), 101st Street Television, Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci. I own only my own creations. No infringement of copy write is intended and will be removed if contacted. All songs mentioned belong to Springsteen. Nor do I own SkyDrive.

Summary: When Gracie Williams arrived at Hillman-Grant Academy that morning, she never expected her school to be besieged by armed gunman.

On the Ledge

Chapter One:

Hillman-Grant Academy was a sprawling privet school that catered to the children of the islands elite. Enclosed in by forty-foot iron gates equipped with top of the line motions sensors and cameras and a guard booth, it seemed safety was a guarantee. It was one of the few redeeming factors in the eyes of Danny Williams. Having grown up in North Jersey, Danny didn't much care if the cafeteria had a trained Chef or offered Equestrian courses. He had survived the public school system in Hoboken where the closest they got to gourmet food came from the vending machines. So when Rachel and Step-Stan had tried to win him over with the physical education program of Wednesday yoga, he had been less than impressed. What the hell ever happened to dodge ball? Apparently, it was too violent or so said Stan. No a kid could not lob a red rubber ball at their classmates, but they sure, as hell could do downward facing dog. As a last ditch, resort Rachel had thrust the security pamphlet into his hands hoping to forestall a wildly gesticulated tangent. It had been an act of desperation, but it had worked.

The following week he had joined Grace, Rachel, and regrettably Stan on a tour of campus. Stan had been just tickled pink about, what the school dubbed, junior entrepreneur classes. Pompous bastards. Rachel had been quite taken with the introductory language courses as well as the arts program. Grace was thrilled that she could spend forty-five minutes a day with a pony and call it a class. Danny had been the only person in the group who had been blatantly skeptical and argumentative. Tittering nervously their guide, who also happened to be the Vice Principal, had promised to show him anything the school had to offer. Going as far as inviting him to observe one of nutrition and healthy living classes. Danny would have rather had bamboo shoots shot under his fingernails, and he'd said as much.

Rachel had glowered at him.

Stan stammered and flushed an unflattering shade of puce.

Gracie, well she had rolled her eyes and promptly told the Vice Principle her daddy was the best cop on the island.

He had promptly swelled with joy, at the absolute pride in his little monkey's voice.

The Vice Principle had actually squealed like a baby pig, bounced on her toes like a three year old on a sugar high, and clapped her hands in joy. He had been more than a little disturbed by the display, but a truly toxic look from his ex-wife had held his tongue.

That was how they had ended up in, what they obnoxiously, called the bunker. From the doorway, it looked almost like a teachers lounge. With its small bistro, style table pushed up against the cinderblock wall and a tiny kitchenette complete with microwave and coffee maker and a large stainless steel fridge shoved into the corner. It was an easy assumption to make. But if you were to step inside and look to the right, that assumption would be thoroughly squashed. Up against the far inside wall was a setup that reminded Danny of something he'd once seen in Star Trek.

Over fifty sleek, black 20' inch flat screens lined the walls in rows of six angled on supporting adjustable brackets for optimal viewing. The top rows showing a continuous live feed of the grounds and surrounding parameter. On one of the screens, Danny had even seen two stocky men in dark security uniforms patrolling the fence in a shiny white golf cart. The remaining monitors were dedicated to the hallways, the gym, auditorium and important offices. The man manning the screens that day had been a crotchety man in his mid-sixties; a retired naval officer and _Jets_ fan to boot.

Danny had been impressed, and had allowed Rachel to register Grace that day with very little protest. He did however, make his indignation heard when Stan had tried to sign his daughter up for fencing classes. It was bad enough Step-Stan was trying to entice his monkey into tennis lessons at their snooty country club; he was not going to put a weapon in her fragile little hands too. Four hours later, they finally left with an approved lesson course in hand. Monkey had gotten her Equestrian study; Rachel had her ceramics and healthy living courses as well as introduction to Mandarin, and Stan his junior business courses. All Danny had left with was a migraine and peace of mind regarding his daughter's safety.

Even three years later as he drove up to the wrought iron gates of Hillman-Grant, checked in with the guard and was waved up the winding cobble stone drive, that faith in security was the only reason he let Gracie out of the car.

"All right Monkey, you have a good day. And keep away from the business end of those horses, all right?"

Grace rolled her eyes and grinned.

His heart melted like butter in the Hawaiian sun.

"Yes, Danno."

He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good, now hugs."

Giggling, she leaned over the center console hugging him tightly. He kissed her dark hair. Pulling away, she grabbed her backpack from the floor and opened the car door.

"Hey, Danno loves you."

"Love you too." She slammed the door, and rushed across the pavement and up the cement steps. As she always did she, turned around just before she slipped in the door grinned happily and waved.

With a sigh, he put the car in drive and made his way out of the congested campus. Cranking the music, he sung loudly along to the Boss, determined to enjoy some Jersey nostalgia before Sergeant Slaughter hijacked his car again. He made good time, pulling into the parking lot of Five-0 headquarters and pulling into an empty space. Still whistling _Thunder Road,_ he locked the car with the key fob, strode up the sidewalk, and smoothed his tie.

By the time, he reached the clear glass door of Five-0 he had graduated to Springsteen's best. Finishing the final verse to _Born to Run_ he pushed open the door and slipped inside.

"Morning Brah. Drop Grace off today?" Office Kono Kalakaua, grinned her dark hair still damp from her morning surf. He approached her at the computer dock, where she was typing away at the touch screen.

"Mhmm, Rachel and Stanley are having a spa retreat in Waikiki. What they need to retreat from, well your guess is as good as mine." He replied with a disgusted eye roll.

Kono whistled. "Wow, swanky. Must be nice to have Grace all to yourself thou."

This time Danny grinned. "The best. So what's this? New case?" He nodded up at the monitors. Upon closer inspection, familiar beady eyes gaze back at him from the flat screen. He remembered that punk thought he was the modern days answer to Billy the Kid.

"Nah, nothing news come in yet. This one's from couple months back, that home invasion ring in Diamond Head. I'm due to testify at the end of the week, and my monitors on the fritz." She crinkled her nose in distaste and jerked her head back toward her office.

"Ah, well better you thank me, so where is Judge Dred? Chumming the waters with suspects? Dangling drug dealer off of buildings by their thumbs?"

She snickered slightly. "Nah…not yet anyway. He had a meeting with the Governor Denning."

"Ah, that explains the solitude. I need coffee. Steve didn't make it this morning did he?" he quested wearily. Any time Steve used the coffee machine the only thing it produced was a toxic caffeinated sludge. McGarrett could perform underwater demolitions without batting an eye, scale walls like Spiderman, and withstand torture, but producing a decent brew was beyond him.

"Don't worry. Chin made a fresh batch. Took him twenty minutes to get the pot clean, but it's safe now."

Danny didn't doubt it. The stuff had the look, constancy, and smell of motor oil. He shivered at the very thought, he made the mistake of it drinking once. In his defense, it had been a late night, and he need caffeine if he had any hopes of not falling asleep at the wheel on his way home. One cup of that and he had been up until dawn watching the shop at home channel. Over caffeinated and beyond exhausted he'd been an easy sell. By the time he crashed at six-thirty the next morning he'd run up a hefty bill on his credit card. A personalized surfboard detailing kit for Kono, she'd been ecstatic and had helped him with his mountain of paperwork as thanks.

The collector's edition model of a 1970 Triumph Bonneville for Chin had gone over like gangbusters. Danny wasn't sure why in his sleep addled mind he believed Max absolutely needed a set of limited edition Yoda salt and peppershakers, but Max had been quite touched-his exact words upon delivery of his unexpected gift. So it had worked out. Gracie was now the proud owner of a stuffed gorilla holding a banana shaped picture frame between its floppy hands. They had even made a special trip to the Honolulu zoo to take a picture in front of the monkey exhibit especially for that frame. Kamekona had very nearly shattered his ribs after he had given him How to grow your Business: the Secrets to Entrepreneurial Brilliance. As a treat for himself, he got the complete theatrical works of Elvis Presley. Sometime during the night, he must have switched to a PBS telethon because two weeks later a model of the USS Arizona that benefited the Pearl Harbor Memorial Fund had been among the stack of packages outside his door. Not that Steve deserved it, after all it was his fault he had racked up over three hundred dollars' worth of purchases, on non-refundable sale items. Danny had been tempted to hand him an itemized bill and keep the model. McGarrett however had bitched like a little girl when everyone else had benefited from his night of insomnia. So he'd forked it over to shut him up. He regretted it almost instantly when Steve had grinned smugly, even though he had thank him that smirk negated the sincere gratitude. It now sat in Steve office, mocking him… silently calling him a schmuck every time he passed it.

Crossing into the break room, he made a beeline for the coffee pot. Pulling two mugs down from the cabinet and two plastic spoons from the box the sink, he filled them with steam black brew. The smell alone was drug to his senses. Grabbing the liquid creamer from the fridge, he poured a splash into his cup and giving it a lite stir. Replacing the creamer, he kicked the door shut with his foot. Seizing a few sugar packets, and the mugs he strode out the door.

With no case to be had and with Steve meeting with the Governor now was the perfect time to catch up on a little paper work. The last thing he needed was to have Denning's secretary Mable, riding his ass for backlogged paperwork. Worse yet ADA Milner. Pausing only to drop off the extra mug and the sugar packets with Kono, he made his way for his office.

Danny was unaware of how long he worked but he had made a nice dent in his back paper work. Scrawling his signature on the LED signature screen with the plastic stylist, he saved his report and uploaded it to the team _SkyDrive_. Sitting back in his chair, he clasped his hand and stretched his arms over his head. He sighed in pleasure as his shoulder cracked satisfyingly. Glancing at his empty mug, he debated a refill when movement caught his eye.

It seemed Steve had finally returned from his meeting. Standing with his back to Danny, dressed in his signature t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots combo, he talked in hushed tones with Chin and Kono. Furrowing his brows, he pushed back from his desk and shuffled toward the glass door. From this angle, he had a clear view of Chin and Kono's expressions. Chin's normally affable demeanor was gone, he face now devoid of warmth leaving him all hard angles and rage. Kono on the other hand had a look of quite menace on her face, her dark eyes burning like twin laser beams into McGarrett.

Slipping out into the hallway, he clapped his hands together, "okay since when am I left out of team chats. If were going for another whole bonding thing," he twirled his hands about. "I believe I should have equal say."

Steve turned slowly and faced him. He had aneurism face. Oh, that never boded well for him. Usually it involved grenades or semi-automatic weapons, but it always ended with stiches.

"I'm afraid to even ask, last time you had that look you totaled my car."

Steve sighed, clenching his eyes in regret. "Danny,"

His blood froze. Steve never back down from a jibe, he was not one who let a prime opportunity to needle him go. But he had, and it scared the shit out of him.

"What? I know something is going on so tell me."

Steve closed his eyes as if the very words caused him pain. "There's been a disturbance at Hillman-Grant Academy."

His world spun, Grace oh God what about Grace?

"Grace?" Danny demanded, his eyes blazing with frantic worry.

Kono flinched.

Chin growled.

"I-I don't know…"

He surged forward, eyes wild face red. Fisting the blue cotton material, his knuckles white. With all his might shoved the former SEAL harshly into the wall. "No! My daughter, _my daughter_ Steven…is in that school so you better well know."

With each word, he slammed the taller man back into the wall. Chin and Kono leapt forward each snagging one of his arms, and trying to pull him back. Steve didn't fight him, but regarded him seriously. "I don't know Danny, but we'll find out. Nothing…hey listen to me, nothing is going to happen to Gracie."

Gracie.

His little monkey. Something had happened at her school. He didn't know if she was hurt and waiting for Danno to come make everything okay again. Everything he had ever done since the moment she was born was to keep her safe. From the time, he first brought Grace and Rachel home from the hospital, and she had seen that he had baby proofed the house for a newborn who would not be walking for some time. Rachel had found it hysterical, calling him mad. She found his late night window and door checks less humorous, especially when he wouldn't get home from a shift until the early morning hours. It hadn't stopped him, it only made him hyper aware of what steps creaked and just how far he could nudge open the door before it squeaked. Later it had been following her around as she toddled on pudgy feet, half in a crouch arms outstretched to catch her when she teetered. To soon after that it had been don't talk to strangers, always wear your helmet while on the tricycle; don't jump on the bed, never touch the stove, no matter what your grandfather says you are not allowed to try beer until your thirty…thirty-three. Once she had begun school it had been never wander away from the other kids on the playground, if you saw someone standing at the fence tell the teacher, don't eat paste it'll stun your growth, and alike. The cardinal rule however, was even if she followed every rule and she still found herself somewhere scared and alone, Danno would always find her no matter what. Danny had never wanted to have cause to fulfill that particular promise. To ensure that he had even sent her to that new age school, to keep her safe. With its top of the line security system, and roving sweeps of the grounds, he never thought all his rules would fail her.

Just as quickly, as it had seized him in its grasp, the rage seeped from his bones. Leaving him cold, numb and with a lead weight threatening to tear through his stomach. All his strength waned, his hands went limp and he would have ended a heap on the floor if not for his other two teammates that wound his arms across their shoulders. Kono burrowed slightly into his side, gipping his waist to keep him vertical. "What happened Steven? Tell me." His voice cracked, his eyes watered. Chin squeezed tightly at his shoulder in silent support.

The vein in Steve's temple twitched violently, eyes twin barren wastelands. This was not Steve his friend. This was Super SEAL Steve.

"It came through dispatch, five minutes ago. A 1000hrs a group of armed men breeched the school." Danny heaved, bile burning at the back of his throat. Grace was a hostage. His little girl was some mad man's advantage. He would kill them. Every one of them with his bare hands. If one hair was mussed on her perfect head, they would beg for death.

"How…" he voice was thick and raspy. He cleared his throat. "How do you know?"

Steve shifted. "One of the faculty escaped through a side window."

"Oh God." He whimpered, sagging until his knees were practically kissing the floor. Chin and Kono struggled to hold him up right.

"Ran to the gate, and use the phone in the guard booth to call it in. HPD is securing the area and rounding up the families. Five-0 is running point on negotiation and recovery. SWATS already been mustered and are en-route to the scene."

* * *

Hillman-Grant Academy:

_Thirty minutes earlier:_

Grace Williams scowled as she sat on the hard wooden bench outside Vice Principle Washington's office. Apparently, when Mrs. Larsden had sent them down here she had forgotten that both Ms. Washington and Principle Carver were away from the school today. So she had been forced to wait on the bench just outside the office door, while Mrs. Pullman called down Miss. Nickels the new Guidance counselor who was handling all disciplinary problems.

To her left, she heard a slight sniffle. Slouched with his back against the wall, holding an ice pack to his nose was Travis Wilkins. Travis was a new boy in her History class, who had just moved here from Michigan. Knowing how it felt to be the new kid, she had tried to be nice to him. Inviting him along when she went to visit the school stables, during recess and introduce him to Peaches. Travis didn't like horses, so she had invited him to join her and Gabby at lunchtime. That had been a mistake. Because Travis was a bully, who enjoyed picking on her friend. Gabby Albright was a small girl that always wore her blonde hair in pigtails and was teased mostly because of her weight. So when Mrs. Landers had put them into groups for a project on the founding of Jamestown. She, Gabby, and shy boy named Brady had been paired together and had moved to the back of the room to work on their project.

Travis had followed, leaving his own group behind, just to come over and call Gabby mean names. Grace had told him to go away or she'd tell the teacher, but another group distracted Mrs. Landers. So when Travis had reached over and pulled her friends hair so hard she cried out and her eyes welled with tears, Grace had acted on her own.

Uncle Steve had once told her bullies were cowards. And ones that made little girls cry were even worse. Bullies were afraid of strength, and if you showed them you were tougher and stronger, they'd be the ones who were scared. So that was what she did.

Mrs. Landers had finally noticed them when Travis had screamed. Holding his lightly bleeding nose and crying. Mrs. Landers had scowled as she pulled a packed to tissues from her pocket and place a handful in Travis' hand and pressed his hand up to his nose to stop the bleeding. She hadn't cared about why she had slugged him, hadn't even listened when Gabby and Brady tried to explain. Grace had been sent directly to Ms. Washington's office while Travis had been sent to the nurse.

Mrs. Bradshaw, the school nurse, obviously hadn't wanted him either; because she dropped him off at the office only five minutes later. Telling him to keep the ice on his nose unless he wanted to look like an angry raccoon. Mrs. Pullman had directed him to the other bench with the point of a finger, phone clasped between her ear and shoulder. He collapsed on the other bench pouting, his nose red and puffy beneath the ice bag.

Okay so maybe she shouldn't have punched him. Mom said it was wrong to hit people just because they made her angry. So she probably shouldn't have done exactly what Uncle Steve would do. Danno was always complaining that Uncle Steve didn't have any respect for something called due process, whatever that was. From what Grace was able to understand, it sound like Uncle Steve really like to hit people when he was angry. Now she had gone and done the same thing.

Oh, Mom and Danno was going to be so mad.

Minutes ticked by and Mrs. Pullman poked her head into the hall to tell them Miss. Nickels would be down for them as soon as she finished up with "…another little hooligan who thought it was funny to put super glue on toilet seats."

The bell rang after the longest three minutes of her life, sending a stampede of students flowing into the main halls. Grace sighed; she was going to miss the pep-rally for spirit week. She spotted Gabby and Brady as they made their way toward the gym. Gabby had moved to come talk to her, but Mrs. Pullman who was standing in the doorway shooed her off.

Gabby sniffled and gazed sadly at her before hurrying off down 'B' corridor. Mrs. Pullman watched the stream of students with a sour frown. The older secretary eyed her two charges with suspicion. As if, she expected them to dash off the bench and blend into the crowd.

Grace rolled her eyes. In the three years she had been at HGA Grace had never seen Mrs. Pullman smile or heard her say anything nice. To anyone. The closest had been, "Good morning, sit out there." when Grace had arrived with her note from Mrs. Landers.

Slowly the crowd of chattering students disappeared down the hall. Loud voices and cheers echoed down the hall through the open doors of the gym. With a metallic clang, the doors were pulled shut, and the halls grew quite.

"You ruffians stay put." Mrs. Pullman glared down at them, and disappeared back into her office. Grace fidgeted on her bench, kicking her dangling legs in a bout of nerves. Miss. Nickels was the new guidance counselor, very few of her classmates had met her at least none that Gracie knew. Mr. Robarts, who had retired at the end of last year, had not been a nice man. If someone was sent to his office in punishment, it was seen as worse than a suspension. He was a fan of giving community service to anyone that even bent the rules. Last year Taylor McClain had started a food fight in the cafeteria and he had been given four months of service helping the cleaning staff clean the cafeteria after school. Danno had said it was fair, but Grace had just been worried about angering the guidance counselor.

Across from her perch on the bench, Grace watched as a pretty blonde lady towed a boy about her age down the main staircase.

"Thank you, so much…for not expelling him. I promise you Rodney and I will be having a long talk about this…won't we Rodney?"

Rodney flinched, and flushed red.

A brown haired woman smiled warmly. "I've seen much worse, Mrs. Richards. I'm sure a week of suspension is more than enough. Thankfully the…incident was more embracing than harmful."

Mrs. Richards flushed and glared down angrily at her son. Rodney started down at his feet and scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the floor.

Grace flinched and bit back a whimper.

With another thank you, Mrs. Richards pulled her son toward the main lobby, scolding him the whole way.

Grace had done a lot worse than embarrass someone. She had made Travis' nosebleed. Would they kick her out? Would mom and Danno be as mad at her as Mrs. Richards was at Rodney? Her bottom lip quivered at the thought.

The woman, who must have been Miss. Nickels smiled at her. She looked more like her friend Kylie's older sister, who was a senior in high school, not like a guidance counselor.

Maybe she would understand. She hadn't meant to hurt or embarrass anyone, not like Rodney had.

Miss. Nickels walked forward, the heels of her boots clipping across the floor.

"So you two must be my next customers. Grace and Travis, right?" She smiled, her eyes crinkling.

Grace nodded meekly.

Travis just grunted.

"Alright then, I'm going to take these two offer your hands Mrs. Pullman." Miss. Nickels called out, her voice echoing in around the hall.

"Hallelujah." Mrs. Pullman grumbled from inside. Miss. Nickels rolled her eyes.

"Come on you…."she paused abruptly. Standing in front of the main staircase, the woman could see right into the domed main hall of HGA. Her face seemed to scrunch in an expression Grace didn't recognize. "Get up!"

Grace jumped startled, at the gruff command. But she did as she was told. Travis regarded the guidance consoler as if she were a dog that growled at him, and pressed his back farther against the wall. The smile that she had greeted them with was gone. From inside the office Mrs. Pullman cried out in anger at the disturbance. Miss. Nickels didn't seem to care. She rushed toward them reaching out she grasped Travis by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him up and onto his feet. He wobbled dropping his ice bag. It landed with a splat on the clean tiles. He gasped, looking up at Miss. Nickels terrified. The woman never paused, but hauled him forward and grasping her shoulder propelling her forward toward 'C' hall.

"Run!"

Grace ran.

As she reached the double red wood doors that lead to 'C' hall, the piercing screech of tires echoed throughout the atrium.

Travis cried out for his mom, as he was drug along.

Grace threw the door open, pausing in the doorway unsure where to run too.

Miss. Nickels' seem to understand. "Kitchens run for the kitchen."

Grace didn't question her, even if it didn't make sense. Today was a half-day no one was in the kitchen. The door to the hall slammed behind them. Grace glanced over her shoulder.

Travis had managed to gather his feet underneath him, so the guidance counselor was no longer dragging him, but he looked as if he were about to cry. Behind them, Grace heard five sharp pops. She whimpered. She knew that sound, she had heard it so many times when she and Danno would watch _Die Hard_.

Gunshots.

She whimpered. She wanted Danno, her mom, her Uncle Steve, even Step-Stan. She wanted them to hug her and make her feel safe. Grace wanted to go home, hide under her bed and wait for the fear to go away.

Miss. Nickels quickly caught up with her. Hand still twisted in Travis collar and pushing him to run faster. With his clogged nose, he was huffing and puffing as he ran. His tears had now begun to fall he was scared too.

Miss. Nickels beat her to the door, were she paused for only a second. Holding a finger to her lips, she motioned for them to stay quite. Grace bit her lip, hard determined not to make a sound. The older woman releases Travis, and pushed the door open a crack. The loud pops sound behind the again, this time closer to the door.

Grace's stomach felt sick. Who was hurt? Mrs. Pullman? Mrs. Wendell the Liberian? She did not know, and she wasn't sure she really wanted the answer. Miss. Nickels growled out a curse, Grace had only ever heard Step-Stan use in traffic once.

Edging the door, open Miss. Nickels poked her head through. With a soft sigh, he through the door open and pushed both she and Travis forward.

Pop pop pop

Grace clenched her fists, eyes burning with tears she ran. Legs pumping as fast as she could push them. They were almost there. The kitchen was just one hall over. If they could get there, they would be safe. The halls around her blurred hot tears streaming down her checks, but her pace never faltered.

Grace could now hear the sounds of heavy boots behind her. They were getting closer. Beside her Miss. Nickels was dragging Travis again, who was sobbing softly between gasps.

A pair of sturdy brown doors carved with music notes stood before her. The corridor of the arts. They were close now. The chef's entrance to the kitchen was at the end of the hall, by the heavy iron sculpture of a spatula.

Miss. Nickels spun throwing her back into the door and pushing it open waving them quickly inside.

"Keep going, come on. You're okay Travis your almost there. I promise." The woman whispered to them. Grace grabbed Travis' hand and together they ran down the dead end corridor toward the sculpture. A low click echoed behind them and the quickly clap of heels followed soon after.

There it was. A large blue steel door that promised her safety.

Five steps.

Four.

Three.

Two.

She grasped the handle, set to push it open and fall inside.

"Wait." Came a hiss, from behind them. Grace looked up startled, yanking her hand back.

The small woman patted her pocket, with drawing a small golden key shaped like a fork. She inserted into the lock and gave a slow twist.

"I'm going to go in first and check. You hear me yell, you run. You run, find somewhere to hide. Can you do that?"

Grace whimper, but nodded.

Then she slipped inside the kitchen.

It was quite.

Quite had to be good.

A moment later, the door reopened, and with a look of relief, they were waved inside. Miss. Nickels closed the door behind them. Using her gold key to lock the deadbolt.

"Now, I want you to find somewhere to hide. No, not the pantry Travis, they'll check their first. Try to squeeze in behind the pots. Those are industrial sized there should be enough room for you to lie down in the back."

Travis wheezed, pulling open one of the doors. "Bit…I...thought we…were saf…safe in here."

Miss Nickels pursed her lips, as she hurried over to the laptop on the corner of the island. "We're as safe as we can be, but a little extra precaution is always a good idea."

Grace had to walk around to the other side of the island for her hiding cabinet, as Travis had claimed the one closest to the pantry. Grace wiped her face. Tears still dripping from her eyes, her hands shook, and she felt sick. Miss. Nickels had her back to them as she typed quickly at the computer, clicking an icon on the desktop and bringing up a screen full of videos.

Grace sniffled; she had seen those same videos in the security room.

She remembered it from her tour, on the day mom had registered her. She opened her cabinet but her eyes, stayed on the computer screen. Whatever Miss. Nickels had hit it brought up a login in screen. She logged in and brought up a red screen, typing in a long string of letters and numbers.

A small window appeared. Security Lockdown Protocol Pink.

Grace didn't know what it meant, but Miss. Nickels seemed relieved. She closed the lid on the laptop and moved toward the counter. Beside the sink, sat a large wooden block of knives-just like the ones her mom had on their counter at home. Grace flinched, when Miss. Nickels pulled two of the longest knives from the block. Keeping the smaller one in her right hand, she slipped the second into the back of her belt.

"Miss. Nickels?" Grace questioned weakly.

The brunette turned, to face her. "Yeah kiddo?"

"What's Lockdown Pink?"

The woman closed her eyes and sighed softly moving around the counter to crouch beside her. Reaching out she wiped at her tears with her thumbs. "It's what a staff member is supposed to issue if there was ever a dangerous situation. It shuts down internal access to the cameras. No one can see anything from the security room anymore."

"That's stupid." Travis crawled toward them and said in a thick voice, "How else will we know where they are?"

Grace looked at him, tears were no longer pouring down his face. They had slowed leaving his eyes red and bloodshot, but he was pale and shaking. Just like her.

"If we can see them, they can see us. We may not know where they are, but they don't know where we are either. That the best we can hope for. If they happen to stumble in here, we have the advantage." Miss. Nickels explained gently.

Travis gulped. "Will they find us?"

"I don't know." She smiled sympathetically at them and reached forward pushing large pots and pans out of the way, making a small space for Grace to crawl in.

"Is that why you have the knives?" Grace asked, a fresh trail of tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Yeah Grace, that's what they're for."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: It's sad to see a show like this having such a slow board. I really hope people are reading this. Also, I would like to thank all who review. It really is the only reward I get. So please if you read leave a review, the longer the better, and get out there and write. LOL

On the Ledge:

Chapter Two:

He arrived in a cloud of flying dust, gravel, and grass. Tires screeching along the asphalt as the tail of his truck fishtailed precariously. An ambulance nearly clipped his rear wheel well, as it sped down the hill sirens wailing. The smell of burning rubber tickled his nose as they left a trail of thick curving black lines. HRT had already arrived on scene and had begun to set up mobile command on curve of the main road leading to the gates of Hillman-Grant. This had to be a record, SWAT usually took nearly an hour to muster and gear up before they made it to a scene. Something at least was going their way. A team of SWAT and HPD officers was erecting a sea of tents on the thin strip of lawn that separated the road from the gate line. Two ambulances were on standby, pulled off to the far side of the security station. A member of the SWAT team stood atop one using it for vantage as he pressed a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

The gearshift had barely clicked into park before he and Chin were out of the cab. Lou Grover, captain of the SWAT team stood grimly by the guardhouse. Steve's long strides carried him swiftly across the road.

"McGarrett, Kelly." The tall bald man nodded in solemn greeting. "Where's Williams?"

Steve flinched.

Chin twitched and responded tightly. "His daughter is a student here. HPD sent an officer to escort him to family holding in case of a ransom call."

Grover baulked, his dark brown eyes taking on a deadly shimmer. Being a father, this situation had already raised the SWAT captain's ire. Now that it involved a cop's child, it made it personal.

"Shit, I had no idea. How's he holding up?"

McGarrett grimaced. "How would you be?"

Lou shivered at the very thought. He didn't even want to contemplate the terror Williams was currently living in.

Chin Ho cleared his throat, taking a step toward the small guard station. A thin trail of blood lead from the iron gates to the door of the booth. Smears of crimson stained the door, smeared across the wood from hinge to knob. A small pool of blood was slowly seeping into the concrete slab that served as a floor. A phone laid beside it, smeared bloody prints stained the number pad and receiver. On the desk the coffee mug that served as a penholder was knocked over, the white ceramic covered in deep red fingerprints, pens spilling across surface and onto the floor. A pen cap and discarded ink cartridge lied beside a blood _Swiss Army_ knife.

Lou noticing Chin's inspection shook himself from his internal musings. "Lt. Colonel Richard Yates USMC Retired, worked as security here for the past seven years. He was doing his regular patrol through campus. He was in the main hall when about ten masked men in tactical vests, armed with _AK-74M_s, forced their way in. and opened fire."

The muscle in Steve's jaw twitched violently beneath tan skin.

Chin crossed his arms, tightly across his chest. Fighting the urgent itch to draw his gun and kill every one of those sick bastards. The look on McGarrett's face, however promised a gruesome end to those who used children as leverage.

Chin was torn.

"Yates managed to take cover, but the other four staff members weren't so lucky. He could only confirm one casualty, but he was unsure of the others conditions. Somehow, don't ask me how he did it. But he managed to take out two of them, before he was hit. Took three bullets to bring him down. One tough jarhead, let me tell you. They took his gun and left him there to bleed out as punishment. He said they headed toward the gym. Apparently a pep rally was scheduled for today."

Grover paused, taking in a deep breath as his rage threatened to overwhelm him. "Unarmed and injured, he knew he couldn't take them on. The phones in the lobby were trashed. So he waited until they were out of sight and rolled out the door. Said it took him a few tries but he was able to get to his feet and set out for the guard station. Yates made it about half way down, before a white van and school bus arrived. He somehow managed to haul his bleed ass up a tree and out of sight."

Chin let out a soft whistle, but Steve looked unsurprised. As if everything he had heard so far was all in a day's work. Then again, with the situations Steve got himself into willingly it probably was to soldiers.

"Yates estimated about a dozen men, total getting out of both the van and bus and used the west entrance into the gym. He estimated it took him about twenty minutes more to make it across the grounds. Real pissed about that, too. Said if he was still in shape, he could have done it in eight. Don't know what they teach you in the service McGarrett. Have a feeling its probably better I don't. Anyway, he made it here, called it into dispatch and used the time to perform field surgery on himself. Apparently, his lung had collapsed on his trek down. He used a pocketknife and a pen tube for a chest tube. That was when he heard an engine. He took cover. He saw the school bus through the window. Worse yet, it was full of kids. One of them spotted him, and started banging on the bus window crying for help. I don't know what these sonsofbitches are playing at."

If possible, Steve's expression grew even more wooden. The wild ticking of the vein in his temple was the only sign of his fury. If anyone else had looked at him, they would see a battle hardened solider who had seen so much death and blood that the only outward signs they could express was through stoicism. They would know he wasn't the person to go to for comfort, but the one to go to for results. Chin as a member of his team and a good friend, could see past the façade, into the rough churning sea of fear, wrath, and indecision.

"They're a backup plan, another bargaining tool to use against us." Steve replied mechanically crossing his arms tightly across his chest. His stomach twisting, he had no idea whether Gracie was in the school or on the bus. One wrong move and he could trigger an avalanche that destroyed everything it touched. When he had been on missions he had felt the same pressure on his shoulders to bring each team member back breathing. That pressure had sharpened him, made him more aware and willing to sacrifice himself for his men if it came to that. Now it was different, had he been in there with her he would know what to do. Instinct would guide his movements. Standing here, a negotiator and in command of not only Five-0 but SWAT, and the Hostage Rescue team he would second guess every thought and action.

Steve cared about every child that was now in the hands of armed kidnappers that had no trouble with cold-blooded murder. Gracie however was ohana. There was nothing he wouldn't do to insure her safety. To her he was Uncle Steve, the man who protected Danno. Who always told her the truth and would always be there if she ever need him. It was slowly crushing him from the inside out. Sweet little Gracie, who was always ready with a smile was out of reach. Waiting somewhere for her Five-0 family to save her. "Not only with hostages in the school but at a secondary location, we're spreading ourselves to thin. If we take down one, when check in comes and goes without an all clear the others will pay the price."

The SWAT captain scowled, fisting his hands on the _Smith and Wesson __M&P15_ slung across his chest, but continued through gritted teeth. "The bus and squad got here a few minutes later. EMTs nearly had a shitfit when they got a look at him. They were still trying to stabilize him when SWAT arrived on scene."

Lou paused shaking his head once in disbelief. "He was being loaded into the bus when his receiver went off. Apparently, as a member of the security detail all security alerts are sent digitally to a handheld receiver. Not long after the initial breech, a staff member was able to log into the secure server and issue a code Pink lockdown. Which aborts all camera function and stores all footage in quarantine. Making it inaccessible from the security room for the next forty-eight hours. So if the rat bastards were counting on the security cameras, their running blind. It also supposed to send an alert immediately to HPD, but because of a glitch, it wasn't received by dispatch or security until 11:19. When the command was issued at 10:10."

"Do you have the receiver?" Chin spoke up.

Grover nodded toward the thirty-foot long trailer that was HRTs mobile command center. Decked out with top of the line computer and surveillance equipment. Gesturing for them to follow, they began the short walk from the gates to command. "It's with Jefferies, Yates logged in before he left, so she's trying to recover footage from the quarantine files. The receiver also has a staff list pdf, Hollis and Cruz are doing comprehensive background on everyone."

Steve nodded, digging his blunt fingernails into his biceps. The small pinches of pain, giving his swirling mind something physical to concentrate on. "Do we know who issued the lockdown?"

Grover shook his head, stopping at the door of the trailer. "Not yet, the staff logs in by ID number, security code, and enter a personalized code word into an alphanumeric string generator and then enter the lockdown password. It could take a while to identify them."

Not waiting for a reply, Grover pulled open the door and climbed the metal staircase.

A burst of cold air hit him when he stepped inside, breaking his skin out in goose bumps. Seated at one long desk that wound around one side of the trailer, were at least fifteen techs typing frantically away on laptops. To his left, on the other side of the trailer was a computer hub, much like the one they had at the Five-0 office. Four plasma screens bracketed to the wall surrounding the touch screen tabletop. Directly in front of him was a small out cove where a single desktop sat. A small rectangular device was hooked, up to a laptop an older woman sat at the computer fingers flying over the keys and cursing violently, in what Steve recognized as Dutch.

"Nothing yet, I take it Jefferies." Grover remarked arching a thick brow.

The woman stopped muttering, removed her hands from the keyboard and slowly turned to face them. The look she shot them was truly poisonous.

"No, nothing yet." She said in a shrill mocking tone. Grover winced and held his hands up in a placating gesture. With one final, wither glare she turned back to her monitor and resumed her muttering.

Rolling his eyes Lou, putt two fingers to his lips, and blew. The techs jumped at the shrill whistle, and turned to scowl at the culprit. Lou smirked weakly and shrugged unapologetically.

"This is Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett of Five-0 he's…"

"Yes, we all know who he is, Grover." Jefferies piped up her back still facing them. "He's the one that causes half the property damage on the island. By the way, McGarrett that little stunt you pulled last week in Oahu blew out my bedroom window. I came home to glass and bird shit on my bed. On the plus it did shatter that horrible ceramic sculpture my mother-in-law gave me as a wedding gift. So you know thanks for that."

Chin snorted slightly, biting his knuckle to stifle his amusement.

Steve glared at him, before uncomfortably replying. "Uh right… you're welcome and uh sorry about that window."

Jefferies snorted and slipped back into Dutch. Steve wasn't sure if she was cursing him or the software that was not bending to her will.

"Anyway, governor says he's in charge…so Cruz, Hollis how are you coming with those backgrounds?"

Hector Cruz, a tall Latin American man with broad shoulders and thick black glasses twitched slightly under the scrutiny. "Uh well they have a staff of over a hundred and fifty people. So it's slow goings. We are about a quarter of the way through, and so far no red flags or anything of interest."

Steve pinched his lips into a thin white line. He had not expected much information yet, unlike procedural crime dramas on TV deep backgrounds and decrypting firewalls took time. That didn't mean he hadn't been hopeful for a clue somewhere. Coming into this they were at a loss. No gang, organized crime syndicate, or terrorist group had taken credit for today's happenings. Not yet anyway.

Kono had already paid Kamekona a visit and had asked him to keep his ear to the ground for any whisperings. The big lug had been quite upset by the news and had promised to get in touch with his contacts, and had even offered his _'interrogation'_ skills if they so desired. If anyone knew anything of value, Kamekona would sniff it out like a bloodhound.

"Chin, I want you and Kono combing through security footage. Start with traffic cams, business security cams; if it records, I want the footage. Start within a twenty-mile radius and work your way out. I want to know where that school bus is. You…" he pointed at a guy sporting a mullet. "Pass whatever you're doing to someone else. You're on camera duty. Find me that bus."

Mullet blanched and nodded frantically, passing off his research to another tech he quickly set to work. After all Five-0's boss did have quite a reputation, he wasn't about to test his restraint.

Chin nodded, already pulling his phone from his pocket. "On it, Brah. Unless it disappeared into thin air, we'll find it."

Grover hocked his thumb to the right. "There's a free station over there, you can work at."

Nodding his thanks, he strode quickly toward the empty station dialing his cousin as he went. Mullet followed at his heels, laptop in hand, like a terrified puppy. Steve drug a hand down his tired face. Not even noon yet and he was already drained. He internally cringed at the thought of just what Rachel and Danny were going through. Steve's first instinct was to call Danno, but he had nothing to offer that would not be the cause of more terror. That was the last thing he wanted to cause. Until he had something substantial, it was best to keep him out of the loop.

For nearly an hour, he hopped around from station to station. Assigning three techs to begin backgrounds on the family of the hostages. He wanted to know every skeleton hidden beneath the façade. If this was a method of control to hurt or turn one of the parents into a puppet, he needed to know. As well as a comprehensive list of every faculty, staff or student that had arrived for school today. If they breeched, Steve need a general idea of just how many victims were in the line of fire.

"Ahah!" Jefferies cried out, jumping up from her chair and pumping her arms in victory. Steve snapped to attention, turning away from Mullet (whose name was actually Brian) and Chin and squeezing through the cramped isle. "Take that multi-billion dollar, multi-national conglomerate. I just made your code my bitch!" She did a little jig in excitement.

"What have you got?"

Steve asked, moving forward and nearly get a face full of frizzy red hair for his trouble. Jefferies quickly reigned in her excitement. "Oh it's not so much what I've found so much as what I now have access too. You see the schools central security database was buried under layers of encryption and firewalls. It took some time, a lot of sweet-talking and a little elbow grease, but I'm finally into the central database."

Steve shifted slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And that'll tell you whose secure log in code was used to initiate the lockdown program."

"Precisely," she blinked at him in surprise, before hooking the toe of her shoe around the leg of her chair pulling it beneath her. She plopped down. The chair groaned in protest. Eyes quickly devouring the information laid bare before her. "Gotcha! And our winner is Melanie L. Nickels, from the Guidance Office."

"Cruz…" Steve began, but the large man waved a hand at him, already hunched over the keyboard, clacking away.

"Already on it Commander."

Satisfied he turned back to Jefferies. "Can you tell where in the building it originated from?"

Jefferies shook her head regretfully. "No, at least not for a while, that log would be stored in quarantine. That folder is a hundred times worse than the security database. With only the database alone, you would only to be able to find out who was responsible for who initiated the lockdown. But just from the cursory look over, I can tell you that file is going to be a bitch to crack. The only way I'll be able to gain access without it taking months and a year supply of _Adderall_ is to get the company's emergency over-ride codes. I put a call into Red Beaver Security Tech's main office in Wichita, they make the software, but I doubt they will be forthcoming. The last thing they want is for anyone to get their hands on those codes. It would destroy them fiscally."

"I don't much care about their profit margin, Jefferies. Chin, take five and get on the phone with Denning's office see if they can apply a little pressure."

Chin glanced away from his monitor, said something to Mullet before standing. Squeezing through the line of chairs and bounding out the door to make the call.

"How about the cameras, can we get access?"

Jefferies painted pink lips, pursed in irritation. "No, whatever assclown installed the software improperly; the same 'glitch', which in actuality was a coding error that delayed digital transmissions, also fried the cameras. There's nothing I can do, everyone would have to be manually re-wired."

His jaw clenched.

He also probably had aneurism face. Without Danny there to tell him, he couldn't be sure.

Cruz rose from him chair, weaving past his coworkers toward the hub. Still listening to Jefferies, Steve took no notice as the man skirted past him.

"Commander, I believe you'll want to see this." Hector called out, his finger flying over the touch screen. Steve excused himself from Jefferies, who regardless of help from Denning's office jumped into designing an encryption cipher, just in case RBST dug in their heels. Striding across the trailer, he came to a halt by the monitor bay.

Cruz flicked his fingers across the touch screen, sending the information up to the monitors. "Melanie Larissa Nickels, no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. Born May 28, 1988 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. To Claire Nickels (nee Polaski, DOB: 7/02/1957) a Naval nurse (Retired 2000) and Justice Peter Nickels (DOB: 9/09/1950) Major General US Marine Corps (Active) fought in Desert Storm as1st Battalion 1st Marines. Now stationed at Hawaii Marine Corps Air Station Kaneohe Bay. She has two half-siblings from her father's first marriage. Charlie (DOB 4/1/1976) and a sister Tanya (DOB: 3/15/1978) both of whom she is estranged."

Steve eyes the pictures on the screen. Claire was a kind faced woman with a round full face, tan skin and a head of shoulder length curly black hair. Major General Nickels was a bald freckle faced man, with a stern appearance. An expression only enhanced by his sharply pressed dress blues. Melanie resembled her mother with her full round face and youthful appearance but she had her father's pale skin and light freckles across nose, cheeks, and forehead. Small set mysterious hazel eyes gazed back at them.

"Lived on base at Camp Lejeune from the time she was two weeks old, until she was twelve. Moved to Manhattan when he father was transferred to MARFOREUR in Böblingen, Germany. Where she fell into the theater scene. Melanie earned her first role on Broadway by the age of thirteen. Playing Wendy Darling in a revival of _Peter Pan_ for six years. She spent all her free time at NWS Earle in Colts Neck, NJ with her godfather Captain Harrison G. Graham."

Steve arched an eyebrow; bracing his feet shoulder with apart, he crossed his arms over his chest. Melanie was definitely not, what he expected from a guidance counselor.

"During her hiatus she and her mother spent all their time with her father in Germany. She went on to star in two more plays, before disappeared from the stage just before her nineteenth birthday. Around the same time, MG Nickels was transferred back to Camp Lejeune. During the summer of 2007, according to an article in _Playbill_ she accomplished a long held desire and was accepted into the Philadelphia Police Academy. As well as taking college courses online in behavioral sciences and child psychology."

The next picture that flickered onto the plasma was her portrait from the academy. Looking more like a kid playing dress up, Steve couldn't imagine very many people taking her seriously. Let alone hardened criminals.

"Where she placed in the top of her class, especially in the weapons training and hand to hand combat. Not surprising really considering her military upbringings."

That was putting it mildly. When he had been in basic all the commanding officers children were known to them. Sometimes they even ran the courses with them or joined them for target practice. It wasn't exactly up to code, but an unspoken rule among the officers that it was unimportant and would only lead to more paperwork, kept the brass silent. BUD/S had been different that way, no one not even the brasses kids witnessed their training.

"In the spring of 2008 just after she graduated the academy, her sister Tanya made a brief reappearance. It was…well quite the dozy of a visit let me tell you, Commander. Apparently, Tanya had just delivered a healthy baby boy. Three days after her graduation, instead of filing job applications Melanie was filing guardianship papers. A month later she took her nephew (now named) Bradley back down to North Carolina. Where she attended school, she just received her bachelor's degree six months ago. Two months later, her father was transferred to HMCAS. She followed her parents and with some excellent recommendations from her godfather and various high-ranking officials, she landed a job as Hillman-Grant's new guidance consoler. That's all I could get from public record and media. I haven't even dug into her personal life or social network accounts. You want me to keep digging?"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, as he mentally reviewed all he'd learned. "Yeah, keep at it. Let me know if there is anything suspicious."

Cruz nodded already slipping back into the protective bubble of cyber-space. If Miss. Nickels was as trained as he suspected, she would become either a great asset or a dooming liability.

…

The last time Melanie had held a knife, well to be honest it had been a k-bar-there was a difference- in her hand, had be nearly a year ago now. Back when she had still been in Lejeune. It felt like a lifetime ago now. Even longer since, she had learned just how much of an advantage it could be in a fight. She had only been eleven, much more comfortable with hand-to-hand combat and firearms in her hand than knives. It was one of the few things; besides repelling from insane heights…she was Acrophobia so sue her, she had ever fought him on. Melanie had enjoyed Krav Maga and Kun-Fu and didn't even make a peep when he had started her on obstacle courses and agility exercises. She had let him talk her up to the top of the repelling platform…granted she had refused to come down…and spent the better part of a day bickering with him from the top of the tower until he got her a ladder, but she had done as he asked and climbed to the top. K-bars however is where she had tried to draw the line. It hadn't worked. After much arguing and cajoling, she had given in otherwise they would have spent the night bickering in the gym, and allowed him to show her how to hold it properly. Well she'd been more than a little disgusted and that had been when she was being taught how to eviscerating a dummy. The thought of ever doing that to a person repulsed her.

She had thrown up on his shoes.

He found it funny.

She thought he needed a mental health professional.

With a gun, she felt much more secure. The reassuring weight of polished metal and the familiar smell of gun oil soothed her, in a way. Melanie had only been seven the first time her dad had taken her to the gun range on base. Mom hadn't been pleased. Come to think of it, that was probably why her mother had even entertained the notion of allowing her to do Broadway, after her father's transfer years later. Her desire to lead her away from a life of danger that the service and her future aspirations of one day joining NCIS represented. It was why she hated that dad and Uncle Harris had been training her from an early age. But Melanie had enjoyed it, so she had gritted her teeth and bared it. As a result, by the time, she was nine she was well trained with both assembly and aim when it came to a handgun.

With the K-bar, she doubted she could ever do something so gruesome to a human being. Shooting them would be kinder. It was then dad had told her that in a situation, where life and death was determined by inches, she would react without thought. Back then, she had doubted that. She had only been a kid, what did she know about it. Now as a trained psychologist she knew her fight or flight response would overwhelm conscious thought.

Although the thought of driving a knife into flesh, made bile burn at the back of her throat. Now with two innocent lives depending on her ability to incapacitate the enemy in any means necessary, she had no doubts she would do what it took.

Grace and Travis were now tucked away in the back of their cabinets. Mounds of pots and pans pushed in around them offering some form of cover. It wasn't ideal but it was all Melanie could do. Time seemed to tick slowly by as she paced around the kitchen in search of a phone or any device that could connect her to the outside world.

Melanie found nothing.

The laptop was of no use, now that their captures had cut off the internet connection. Her cell phone was locked away in her desk drawer in her office, far out of reach. As per Hillman-Grant policy, all student phones were locked away in their lockers during school hours. Sadly, Grace and Travis seemed to be the only one who followed that particular rule as she was always catching their classmates with their thumbs glued to their screens.

The clang of cast-iron pans made he flinch slightly. "Sorry." Grace's low fearful whisper made Melanie sick.

Who did this to schoolchildren?

Cowards that's who.

"Shhh its okay guys, just try to relax." She murmured back softly resting her hand on the counter of the island, as if they would feel the comforting gesture through the metal counter top above their heads. The spine of the razor sharp chef's knife rested against the inside of her forearm, fingers clenched tight on the rubber coated non-slip handle.

They had been in here for nearly two hours already. The kids were probably going stir crazy in their hiddie-hole, with so little room to move they would probably be claustrophobic after this, but neither of them complained. Every twenty minuets or so Melanie would check in, make sure they weren't in the midst of full-blown panic attacks. In a way she wished they were, it would be the healthier route given the situation. Once the initial panicked tears abated, their stress levels would gradually lower. Neither of them had cried for nearly an hour now. It made her fear that shock was creeping in.

She was just about to open her mouth, she heard the heavy tread of combat boots slapping against the linoleum. Her stomach lurched; he was coming closer, probably searching for the kitchen to gather supplies.

"Don't move, stay as quite as you can…alright…and whatever you do don't come out until I tell you." She hissed, already moving toward the stove. On the far right burner was a simmering pot of olive oil and on the left a full teapot. She had done his hours ago, just for a moment like this. Cranking the burner beneath the kettle to life, she wedged herself into the small out cove between the stove and the large spice cabinet on far side of the room. The footsteps drew nearer.

The doorknob rattled.

A grumble sounded on the other side of the door. Then a voice.

"What?"

" 'S locked." Another voice spoke up, this one with a hint of an accent.

"Then use the key, you smacked ass."

There was intelligible muttering, of "Keys…keys…" as he searched himself for the key.

A slight whimper escaped one of the kids, she didn't know who but she prayed they would be able to keep quite. With a surprisingly steady hand, she reached back and grabbed the pot of steaming oil by the handle. Holding it in her left hand, she could feel the thick steam curling up to lick at her face.

With a triumphant, "Gotha," the lock clicked open.

The heavy metal door thunked when it banged into the cinderblock wall.

"I wonder if they's got candy. You thinks theys gots candy, Val?"

Val grunted, and she would bet her life savings he was scowling at his dimwitted partner. "Go check, if you want it so badly."

The other man muttered as he clomped heavily in the direction of the pantry, the heavy swinging door clapping back into place.

A lighter pair of feet shuffled across the tiles toward the industrial sized refrigerator. He pulled open the heavy door and began rooting around inside. If he turned around, he'd see her crammed against the wall. He was a large hulking brute with a head of thin greasy blonde hair, wearing well-worn blue jeans (expensive by the look of them), a t-shirt and a tactical vest. An _AK-74M_ slung across his chest by a heavy-duty nylon strap. With his back toward her, this was her best chance. She crept out, silently setting the pot on the countertop. Her grip tightened on the knife.

Now or never.

With all her might, she swung her foot back and brought the pointed heel of her boot into the back of his knee. He let out a cry of surprise, his leg giving way. To her left she could hear the sound of boxes and canned goods being tossed around. Melanie slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing his cry. He reached for his gun, just as she thrust the blade into his neck. With a quick twist of her wrist, the sharp blade cleanly transected his spinal column. He slumped to the floor, gun clacking across the tiles. She paused, but Val's partner continued to rummage through the pantry. She set the bloody knife down on the counter next to the pot, wiping the blood off her hand on the back of her pants. She eyed the gun for a second in hesitation. Melanie didn't know if more of them where in the vicinity, it would be stupid to use the gun now and risk drawing backup. Leaving the gun for the moment, she eyed the pot of steaming oil. It would be effective, but screams of agony would draw just as much attention as gunfire.

Leaving the pot where it was she crept toward the pantry.

She made it to the door, when the kettle let out a shrill whistle.

One of the kids shifted, pots clanging softly together.

Please just wait a little longer; she silently prayed to God they would wait just a few minutes longer. Just for a little while longer.

"You say somethin', Val?" the other man called as he galumphed toward the pantry door.

Melanie had just enough time to flatten herself against the wall, before the door swung open. She managed to catch the handle, before the heavy wood smashed into her nose.

"Val you makin' tea?" in any other circumstance the other man's puzzlement would have had her rolling her eyes in exasperation. Releasing the handle she nudged it forward, as she shuffled silently forward.

This man was about the same height as her in her heels; thin as a rail she must have outweighed him by forty pounds. He had no muscle mass to speak of and he was unarmed.

She tucked the knife into her belt besides its twin, for easy access.

"Yo Val!" he called out again moving forward and moving the kettle off the burner.

He opened his mouth to call again for his partner.

He never got the chance.

She twined her left arm around his throat, the inside of her right forearm locked tightly around the front of her left wrist, her right hand fisting his hair. He lurched back slightly, his shoulder now digging into her breasts. His hands scrabbled at his arm, nails biting into her skin as he fought for breath. She tightened her grip.

"It will only make it worse if you struggle." She hissed in his ear.

He ignored her advice, trying to kick at her legs and tramp at her toes. He got a knee to the tailbone for his efforts.

He grunted expelling more precious oxygen.

Still pawing ineffectually at her arm he quite struggling.

She spun them so he could see not only his dead partner on the floor, but their reflection in the stainless steel appliance. Seeing Val's body sent him back into a panic, and he tried to bite at her.

Melanie gave his hair a firm yank.

"You want to end up like your friend there?" she whispered in his ear.

His stricken face and bulging eyes was more than enough of an answer.

"Good," she spoke quietly, loosening her grip just enough for him to take a greedy gulp of oxygen. "I don't want to hurt you either. But you're going to answer a few questions for me. Blink once for yes, twice for no…understand?"

He blinked twice.

"Good…now how many armed goons are there? Ten…no…less? No again…twenty…twenty-five…okay twenty-five. That's good…are they patrolling the halls? Yes…damnit…"

She grunted when abruptly her helpful hostage suddenly produced a wickedly curved pocketknife. It gleamed beneath the florescent light as he tried to stab at her. Releasing her left wrist, she dodged the blind swipe and reached her own weapon. He broke free of her weakened hold spinning around he lunged. His dull blue eyes were jaundiced and wild, his lips skewed into an offal sneer.

He slashed at her she sidestepped him easily. The blade swishing harmlessly through open air. Snatching a knife from her belt, she circled him. Flattening the spine against her forearm. He growled charging at her like a rampaging bull. Melanie ducked to the left the tip of the blade tore across her black blouse and left a bleeding gouge in her skin. She bit her lip as pain seared through her nerve endings. He grinned, showing off perfect gleaming white teeth. That perfect smile disgusted her, and she had never been so glad for the two cracked teeth behind her cuspids. That cracked repeatedly no matter how much dental work she had done. Drops of crimson dripped from his blade as he sliced at her again. This time when she dodged he over balanced and she used it to her advantage.

With a graceful roundhouse kick to the ribs, he stumbled backwards a winded. With expert fingers, she spun the knife so the tip pointed toward the tiles. Spitting like an angry cat he rushed her once more, just as she hoped he would.

Melanie ducked slightly, and spun fluidly to her left so his back was not to her chest. She twined his hair in her finger and yanked, his back bowed with the forced and just as her dad once said…she didn't hesitate. Plunging the knife downward into his throat, the blade sawing through his vocal cords. Self-loathing slammed into her as she yanked the knife back out, and let him fall to the floor.

She hated what she had been forced to do. Regardless of whether it was the right thing to do or not this would haunt her. Every night when she closed her eyes, she would remember this moment and what she had done.

The knife dropped from her numb fingers, clattering against the now bloody tiles. He stomach lurched threatening to reject her quick breakfast. She fought it down, clasping a hand to her bleeding arm she hurried over to the cabinet.

"Grace, Travis." She called softly not wanting to frighten them when she open the door to their hiding places; they couldn't stay here any longer. They had to move, because they would send someone to check when the two men failed to return. A terrified sob answered her. Her heart broke, at the sound of fear. With every piercing sob, she thought of her nephew. Melanie always hated those fearful sobs; they tore at her even when she could make it better with a movie or trip to the zoo. This fear that Grace and Travis felt was not something she could fix.

"Okay I'm going to help Grace out first, and then I come get you Travis. But need you to only look up, okay. Don't look anywhere else. I'll help you out and you go right for the door and face the wall okay?" She spoke in a soft soothing whisper. Travis sniffled and managed a weak okay.

Pulling open the cabinet, she carefully cleared a space for the girl to crawl out. The moment she spotted her Grace gave a small hiccupping sob and latched her arms around Melanie's neck, letting the woman pull her out from between the pots.

"Alright sweetie, now where going over to the door. Jump..." she lifted the girl over the dead body of jaundiced eyed man. Careful to avoid stepping in the blood. Around the counter she went, doing the same for Travis.

"Now don't turn around, I have to grab something."

Grace and Travis nodded slightly.

Careful of where she tread, Melanie made her way back toward Val. With skilled fingers from years of practice, she unclipped the rifle strap and tugged out from beneath his body. She swung the strap across her body, clipping it into place. The barrel bounced lightly against the back of her knee. She knelt down removing the tactical vest and digging out tree spare ammo clips from his pockets.

Quickly she slipped into the pantry finding the other man's weapon leaning up against a case of bottled water. With ease, she disassembled the weapon, keeping the barrel tucking it into her belt and tossing other parts aside. She tore a hole in the plastic wrapping and grabbed a large bottle of spring water before slipping back out into the kitchen.

Glancing toward the door, she found the kids where she left them, facing the plain white cinderblock wall. Melanie quickly moved toward the skinny man, repeating the same process that she had Val. Two more clips were added to her own belt. Tucked into his boot she found a smart phone and a _Bluetooth_ receiver in his pocket and nearly sobbed in relief. Finally, she removed his vest, and moved back toward her charges. Slipping in front of them the muzzle of her gun clicking against the tiles. Melanie crouched down, setting the water bottle on the ground by her knee.

"Alright, we have to get out of here now. Just in case someone comes back looking for those men."

"Are they dead?" Travis asked, wiping harshly at his face.

She pressed her lips together, so tightly they turned white. "Yeah, yeah they are."

Grace paled slightly, but nodded her head in understanding. Travis eyed her for a moment before letting his eyes fall to the floor.

"Where are we going?" Grace asked as Melanie fiddled with a Velcro strap on the vest.

That was a good question. One she wasn't sure of the answer too. Her office was out, as it was clear on the other side of the school in the west wing spire. The gym was a logical place for the kidnappers home base, with the entire student body already gathered there for the pep rally. The history, English, and Arts corridor would offer nothing in the form of defense. That left only the science wing that was close by. And the Chemistry lab had chemicals; she could probably whip something together.

"The Chem class room. First, I'm going to put these on you. There big but they'll help keep you safe."

It took some fiddling, but eventually she was able to size the vest well enough that it stayed on the small shoulders.

"Then what?" Travis question eyeing his vest.

"Then we make a call." She held up the phone with a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Danno will get involved in the action, but not for at least another two chapters. Sorry, people gotta lay the groundwork. Trust it'll be worth it. Also, that trick with the gun, I saw on an episode of _Blacklist_.

On the Ledge:

Chapter Three

Grace had never seen the halls of HGA so empty and eerily silent. Normally there was always movement, the light clacking of feet against freshly polished floors, the loud hum of the lawnmowers, and the whir of the security golf cart as it whizzed by classroom windows. It was something Grace loved about Hillman-Grant. The constant movement. Sometimes after a test, she would sit at her desk and strain her ears listening to the noise around her. There was always someone wondering about, always something to hear, breaking up the monotonous silence. Even during class hours, students from Library Council were usually wandering about the halls delivering an attendance list to study hall teachers. Students with bathroom slips took their time lazily walking the halls before returning to class. Mr. Robles the whistling custodian pushing his cart with the squeaky wheel down the hall. The low melodies of _Bon Jovi_ echoing down the corridors. Then the various teachers with a free hour, rushing about the marble lined corridors trying to complete a laundry list of errands in only forty-five minutes.

When Grace had first started at Hillman, it was something to remind her of home. The constant movement and sounds. At her old school back in New Jersey there was always some disturbance in the halls, grating on the nerves of teachers. To Grace however noisy halls represented safety. With someone always wandering through the halls at random, intervals very little happened without at least one person seeing something. A theory that was disproven today. The only reason Grace was not in the gym with Gabby and the rest of her friends was that she had let her temper get the best of her.

If she and Travis hadn't been sitting in the atrium or Miss. Nickels hadn't arrived when she did…well Grace really didn't want to think about what could have happened.

Even though she was not a prisoner, Grace knew she wasn't safe. A patrol of two men with large guns had already passed them by. If they had turned left instead of right there would have been no missing them, crouched down against a recessed Carraramarble-lined wall. As terrified as she was when Miss. Nickels tucked her away in a big metal cabinet, she had at least had an enclosed space to hide. Some semblance of safety to cling too. 'E' hall offered nothing close to that.

Grace had once been a fan of the intricate designs of Hillman-Grant, especially around Christmas when everything glowed with white twinkle lights and smelled of evergreens, now not so much. All she wanted now was a place to escape too. Ironically, seventy years ago, the castle was meant to serve that exact purpose for someone else. Beatrice Hillman, the only daughter of a Texan oil tycoon and sole proprietor of Grant Oil Reserves, had suffered from paranoia and sever social anxiety since she was a young girl. Rather than admit to the world his only child and heir to his multi-million dollar company was mentally unwell he gave her a fortress to guard her against her fears. Forever fearful that someone would try to use her to gain access to her father's millions; she had locked herself tightly away from the world. Her castle was the only place she believed to be safe. As far as Mr. Brant, her history teacher, told them Beatrice never once left the sprawling grounds in the forty some years she called Hawaii home.

Only one person was allowed within the gates besides her security and physician was Lea Keawe. A young local girl Mr. Hillman had hired to care for his 'unwell' daughter. Upon Mr. Hillman's death in 1943, all of his worldly assets had reverted to Beatrice. His one request of her was that she see the world, and all the beauty and happiness it had to offer. Still Beatrice could not muster the courage to leave the grounds. With nearly a billion dollars to her name, Beatrice decided to honor her father's wish the only way she could, she brought the world into her home. For nearly a year, Beatrice combed through every book her library had to offer before she made her meticulous final selections. Soon after Beatrice retreated to her tower, the one that now housed the guidance office, in the East wing as construction began. Lea had over seen everything, besides visiting the tower with three square meals a day and forcing her charge into the gardens once the workers had departed.

To reach full completion it took nearly six years, the results however were beyond imagination. At least that was Grace had thought during Mr. Brant's lecture. In the fall of 1950, the crews departed what they dubbed the 'Lonely Castle'. The main entry and living areas had been modeled after Blair Castle, in Scotland with bold splashes of red and crisp white accents. The dining room was a much smaller version of the famous Hall of Mirrors in the Château de Versailles (a room that was used only for fund raising dinners). The west spire was a nearly exact recreation of the Queens sitting room at Buckingham Palace. 'E' hall, or once was the southeastern corner of the estate, was modeled after the famous Cross Hall in the White House. Beatrice had bared no expense with the custom red carpet runner of rich red velvet, chandeliers, imitation portraits, and both the American and Hawaiian state flags in heavy brass floor stands. In accordance with the theme, the classroom doors were large gleaming double doors of rich mahogany wood. A signature of Cross Hall and in small alcoves in the wall were shelves holding imitation busts. It was called the hall of higher learning where all AP classes (excluding science) were housed.

That wasn't all that had been built. With Beatrice's chocking fears, she had what she called safety rooms built behind the walls. A large circuit of tunnels that ran from her tower to the gates. Before the school could be opened, each hidden room had to be sealed off for the safety of the student population. That was working out really well for them now. The school opened in 1960 three years after Beatrice's death. Deemed safe for student inhabitation, they opened the doors. When Mr. Brant had first begun reading to them from Lea's diary, which had been donated to the school after her death ten years ago, Grace had been enthralled with the thought of secret passageways in her school. It would be just like Hogwarts. She had been slightly disappointed. Now it took all she had not to cry.

All she wanted was to feel safe again. To be tucked away where no gun wielding psychopath could find her. Somewhere she could breathe and not have to listen for every creak or thump of boots. Grace couldn't help but think if they hadn't sealed off those tunnels forty some years ago, that right now she would be safe.

A single tear fell free of her thick black lashes, curling down her face slowly before falling off her chin. Her nose began to run, and she swiped it away with her shirtsleeve. Disgusting or not, she didn't care. All she cared about was finding a safe place, away from men with guns. When Danno's old partner had kidnapped her, she had been terrified then too. Duct taped to a chair and hidden behind boxes in a storage unit all alone, she had been afraid no one would ever find her. That the man would kill Danno and never tell anyone where he had left her. How long she sat there in the dark container she still wasn't sure. Grace hadn't been sure she really wanted to know, so she had never asked. But before the sun had even gone down, Danno was there tearing the tape from her mouth and wrists and hugging her tightly to his chest and carrying her out into the fresh air. Then her mom was there, flying out of the back of a police car and running toward her. She had swept her away from Danno and into her arms, and Danno had pulled them both into his arms. The three of them had stood in the flashing lights of the car clinging to each other as the sun set behind them.

Her feet didn't touch the floor for hours after that. As she had been passed around and hugged by Uncle Steve, Kono, Chin, and Step-Stan (before he was taken in to surgery). She had been seated on someone's lap for most of the night, as they waited for the doctors to patch Stan up. Chin had even carried her down to the cafeteria on his shoulders for ice cream. Kono bought her a stuffed dog from the gift shop, brushed, and braided her hair, while mom tried to fill out paperwork. Since she refused to take her eyes from her thou it was slow goings. Danno had been slow to leave her side too, but eventually left to fetch her some clean clothes, but only after the rest of his team had promised they would stay with her and mom until he got back. Grace wasn't ashamed to admit she was visibly nervous once Danno was out of sight. Uncle Steve noticed first, swinging her off Kono's lap and setting her on his own. He told her funny stories from when he and his sister Mary were kids. Keeping her entertained until Danno rushed back into the waiting room clutching her yellow duffel bag.

Grace wanted that now. She wouldn't even protest being lifted off her feet. Wouldn't complain she wasn't a little kid anymore, and simply soak it in. That feeling of safety, wrapped up snuggly in a blanket curled up on the lap of someone she loved.

She wanted was to run. As far away from the silent halls as possible. Where she could hear the hum of car engines and smell the gasoline and exhaust of city buses. To hear the shrill car horns that blared continuously during rush hour. Smell the soothing scent of sea air and feel the hot grains of sand beneath her bare toes.

Escape.

Such an easy word. Like if she merely thought it hard enough, it would come true. Yet it remained so painfully far out of reach. Grace curled her fingers into tight, white, fists, her nails biting sharply into her palm. She didn't even whimper, the pinches it cleared her mind slightly. As much as her brain was screaming at her to run, she knew it was impossible. There wasn't anywhere she could go. The closest main road was twelve miles away, and the sprawling five-mile campus and gardens littered with jack-booted thugs stood between her and freedom.

Beside her, Miss Nickels rose to her feet the butt of the rifle already pressed securely to her shoulder. Grace had seen cops and soldiers do that in the movies. Uncle Steve had said it was brace against recoil, whatever that was. She hadn't cared enough at the time to ask. The white dishtowel, knotted tightly around the bicep of her right arm, was now a light shade of pink. As blood slowly seeped into the cotton fibers. Grace had used the last of the spring water to rinse out the bleeding wound, before helping the older woman tie the clean cloth tightly, to staunch the blood flow. It had taken all of Grace's will power to keep her eyes on the bleeding wound, as the last thing she had wanted to risk seeing the bodies bleeding on the tile floor, she had never been good with blood. When there was more than a pinprick, she always caught a hint of copper that turned her stomach and made her head woozy.

The kitchen had reeked of copper. The blood slowly seeping into the tiles had ensured that. She had nearly fainted when Miss. Nickels once again left them at the door, to head deeper into the room. Even with her back to the woman, she could hear the soft grunt and thuds of movement, then the click of the camera phones shutter. Then she was back, slipping out the door with gun at the ready, checking the corridor before allowing them out.

Fifteen minutes or so later, they made it here to 'E' hall. It had been slow goings, as they were forced to pause, whenever the sound of combat boots were to close for comfort. On a normal day, it would only take Grace three minutes to make it from the Arts hall to the science wing. Except it wasn't a normal day, instead of having to plow through a churning swarm of students they had to dodge thugs.

The door that lead into the library annex had been left slightly ajar by the last patrol, using the barrel of the gun, Grace watched with baited breath as the brunette nudged it open just enough to peep inside. From where she sat her back against the wall, knees pulled tightly to her vest-covered chest, she watched with terrified eyes. At any second, she expected a snarling face to appear on the other side of the door with a gun in hand. Grace was already bracing herself for the gunfire that might follow.

It felt like forever, as she started unblinking at the woman's back. Then she pulled back and turned to them and gave a slight and with a jerk of her head that urged them to their feet. Knees quaking Grace used the wall to brace herself in case her legs gave way. Thankfully, her trembling did not send her toppling onto her bottom she cautiously tiptoed forward, reaching out a hand to clasp the back of the guidance counselor's black blouse. That, the older woman had told them, was so she knew where they were at all times. A way to guarantee they stayed together as they trekked across the sprawling campus. Single file, one hand always clasping the person in front of them and no one would be left behind. Grace had a feeling it was more to do with keeping them out of her line of fire. If they were to be drawn into a gunfight, the last thing Miss. Nickels would need was for two kids to be in the crossfire.

Grace bit her lip as they shuffled slowly forward inching the door slowly open and her fingers twisting the silk so tightly her tan knuckles glowed white. Travis did the same with the back of her school shirt, nearly making her choke. Using her shoulder, Miss Nickels nudge the door open the rest of the way, automatically snapping the barrel to the left and then the right. Checking for any sign of movement or any trace of human presence.

Thankfully, there was none.

The annex was blissfully empty.

The silence rang loudly in her ears. It gave her the creeps. Thankfully she didn't have long to dwell on that, because they were moving. Shuffling slowly down the hallway that banked to the right, Travis closed the door behind them with a soft click. Grace stared directly at the back of the wrinkled shirt as she scuffled along not daring to peak around the taller body in front of her. Too afraid of what she would find.

The annex lights were off, as bright afternoon sunshine poured through the stained glass windows that line the wood paneled walls. Painting the hall in hues of green, blue, and gold. On a normal day Grace would have loved walking slowly through the annex at noon, watching as the bright colored beams of light flickered along the dark tone walls. Sometimes when equestrian studies was canceled due to rain, she would come sit on one of the thick velvet cushioned benches and watch and listen. From this hall, she could hear the school chorale's afternoon practice. With the steady stream of constant music and stained glass, it had quickly become a favorite spot of hers. If she were to enter the library proper, the thick soundproofed walls would drown out every noise save a cough of a student or the clacking of computer keys. Grace preferred noise to silence always had, it was why when her brother was a newborn she slept easily through his squalls. Noises never scarred her but complete silence made her weary. After this, she doubted she would ever be able to tolerate the quiet. Miss. Nickels paused, and Grace rammed face first into the center of her back. The older woman stumbled a step forward, but managed to stay upright. The sounds of their footsteps echoed off the doomed celling and slowly faded away. Grace strained her ears, listening for any sounds of the hostage takers.

All she heard was Travis wheezing in her ear.

The older woman tensed, the gun made a clicking sound.

Travis' nails dug into the back of her neck, but she clenched her teeth to keep silent.

Stealing herself, Grace peeped around Miss. Nickels' shoulder. She could see the oval arched door stained white with swirling ropes of forest green vines, sprouting large intricately painted bright pink and yellow plumeria. The science hall was just beyond that door. She pressed her lips into a tight thin line. They were almost there.

Then she heard it.

The reason they had stopped to begin with.

Voices.

And they were coming closer.

She could hear it now, though she couldn't make out what was being said.

With more speed than they had used across the entire trip across campus, Miss. Nickels continued forward. Startled by the sudden movement, Grace nearly lost her grip on the shirt. Balancing on the balls of her feet so her high heels would not click on the marble floor Miss. Nickels wobbled quickly toward the white door toeing them along.

Feeling as if she was about to be sick, Grace and Travis matched the speed running on tiptoe to keep up. There was no time to check the next hall. They would have to take a chance and hope that nothing was lurking down the hall.

Freeing one hand from the rifle, Miss. Nickels twisted the knob and slowly pushed it open and striding hastily inside. Travis, trembling was just turning back to close the door when the heard it. A voice and not the ones they had been running from only seconds before. This voice was in their hallways. She could see him standing at the opening to the chemistry hallway that branched sharply out to the right.

Standing with his back to them, he spoke swiftly into his phone. The thick rapid language was not one she recognized but it seemed Miss. Nickels did. He was a tall man. Taller than Danno but a tiny bit smaller than Uncle Steve, he had thick jet black hair that was plastered down to his scalp with a thick layer of gel.

Travis fisted his hand tightly on her shirt collar, causing the top two buttons to dig painfully into her throat.

Grace's hands trembled as Miss. Nickels reached back and tapped her gently on the head. She looked up at the older woman with wild brown eyes. Silently begging her to do something. Her vision blurred slightly as a wave of tears surged forward. Face soft Miss. Nickels smiled tightly and pointed to the first door on their left. The door had been left wide open; the florescent overhead lights left on.

Grace gulped nodding softly, reaching back to grab the wrist of the hand that was slowly chocking her, and tugged him toward the room. They crossed the threshold and quickly shot off to the left away from the door and turning to face the woman who had kept them safe thus far. Without speaking, the woman jabbed a red painted nail at the teacher's desk. Silently ordering them to crawl beneath it and sit tight. Pushing Travis forward she waited as he scooted under the heavy wood, careful not to crack his head on the bottom. Once he was settled, she quickly followed pressing herself into the edge of the desk, and pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them tight. The Velcro straps on her vest crinkled softly at the movement, and Travis glared at her as he curled up in his corner. His fingers toying with the hem of his own bulletproof vest. The linoleum beneath the desk was dark and dingy with dirt and dust, and Grace cringed. She was allergic to dust and would sneeze herself raw if she was exposed too much. Their movements had already kicked up dust motes and it floated up to tickle teasingly at her nostrils.

No, oh God, no she could not sneeze. Her nose burned a sure sign of impending eruption. Pinching her nose together tightly between her fingers, she opened her mouth enough to breathe through clenched teeth.

Travis eyed her as if she had lost her mind.

Grace really did not care; right now, she needed to distract herself from the constant itch. Therefore, she watched the black heeled boots as they tiptoed by the desk. Miss. Nickels crouched down, bracing the gun against her thigh and gazed into the trashcan. Grace frowned, tilting her head to the side slightly and snagging her ponytail on a loose nail. She winced silently and hissed a breath through her gritted teeth. For a moment she thought the woman was about to be sick. Grace prayed to God she wasn't, if anyone threw up around her it would disgust her so much she was so joining the festivities.

Miss. Nickels didn't throw up; she reached forward and dug something out of the can. Grace frowned when she saw what the woman had produced from the garbage.

A plastic soda bottle.

Grace frowned

Miss. Nickels, unscrewed the cap tossing it back into the trash, and grabbed the eraser ledge with her good arm pulling herself upright. Grace couldn't see what happened next, as the woman walked out of view toward the teacher's lab station. She heard the quite rustle of papers and pens as she searched. She must not have found what she was looking for because she moved in and out of view.

Grace could still hear the quick sharp voice of the man in the hall, as he talked on his phone, oblivious to the fact he wasn't alone.

Thank God.

Miss. Nickels finally found what she was looking for in the bottom cabinet. A small beam of sunlight flashed off something silver. Grace squinted, craned her neck slightly to the side for a better look.

Duct tape.

Setting the soda bottle on the shelf, she slowly peeled the tape up, flinching at the noise. She tore off a good-sized strip, and pressed the end to the counter top. Grace furrowed her brow as the brunette lifted the rifle wedging it between her thigh and the slate desktop atop the row of cabinets, and held the spout of the soda bottle to the barrel of the gun. Holding it steady with one hand, she reached for the tape, and wrapped it easily around spout and barrel. She gave the bottle a slight jiggle, her shoulders relaxed slightly when the tape held firm.

Grace nearly squeaked in surprise when Travis, reached forward and yanked her backward. Blue clashed with brown as they glared at one another. He had the beginnings of two black eyes, his nose-still bright red swollen-gave a small whistle every time he exhaled. He looked ridiculous. Any other time she might have seen the humor in it, but right now, she _really_ wanted to punch him in the nose again.

Miss. Nickels chose that moment to poke her head beneath the desk. Weight braced on one knee she squinted appraisingly at their scowls. Grace resisted the childish urge to cross her arms over her chest and thrust her lower lip out in a pout. Instead, she offered a weak shrug. Her freckle face smoothed slightly, but her eyes were dark even in the sunlight.

Grace had seen that look before; it was the same look Danno got. After a really bad day. It was only recently that Grace had started taking notice that sometimes he would be grinning at her but his eyes would look sad and dark. Mom had known just what she had been talking about, when she mentioned it to her. She had gotten quite, her eyes taking on that glazed look of remembrance she always got when she thought back. She had explained it was how he always looked after a case, which hit a little too close to home or ended violently. Her smile had turned hazy as she told her of the first time she had called Danno on it, they had only been dating for a while and he was not thrilled with the idea of sharing something so dark with her. Her mom had persisted and won, as she usually did, and he had broken down and told her everything. Although her mom wouldn't share what that had been, she did tell her that was the moment she knew she loved him. She said seeing him at his most vulnerable had changed the course of her world. It was moments like that when mom would talk about the good times with Danno, and smile softly as she stared into space, that Grace couldn't help but wonder. Mom never wore that smile while talking of Stan. She never looked at him with both irritation and fondness, when he did something stupid.

Even now when Mom saw that look in Danno's eyes, she would hug him tightly or squeeze his hand and smile. The darkness didn't dim, and sometimes it wouldn't for days, but he seemed to relax.

Miss. Nickels now had that look.

After what had happened in the kitchen, she wasn't surprised. Grace had seen her trembling hands and pale face as she bundled them into their vests. She was upset. She had after all killed two people. Even though she was only twelve, Grace couldn't imagine the guilt the guidance counselor was feeling. Is she was in Miss. Nickels' shoes, she didn't know if she would ever forgive herself. She already felt guilty enough that someone had killed to protect her. She felt the same when Stan had taken a bullet to ensure her safety. He had been willing to die for her. It flared brightly through her every time Stan cringed and rotated his shoulder. For Miss. Nickels however, she had a feeling the guilt would only fade, but never truly leave, regardless of circumstances.

Grace locked eyes with the woman, and smiled weakly at her. She hoped it was comforting, that it helped even just a little.

Miss. Nickels smiled weakly back and nodded. Almost as if she somehow understood, what she had been trying to convey and appreciated her efforts. Then she looked over at Travis, and pressed a finger to her lips. Squeezing her eyes shut, her face a little green, she lifted the gun and hocked a thumb toward the door.

Grace understood. She was going to kill him. No matter how much she didn't want too, she had no choice. Her eyes watered and she nodded bravely, waiting until the consoler got to her feet before she buried her head in her knees and let her tears fall silently.

….

Duke arrived with a copy of the original and renovated blue prints of Hillman-Grant nearly an hour ago. With the castle having once been a private residence back in the forties, the originals had never been logged into the states system. There had been no real need, as the building was heavily remodeled and brought up to code before it could be designated as a school zone. Duke had been more than a little surprised that he even wanted them, as they were now useless. Odds are he wasn't wrong, the current prints that stared up at him from the touch screen said as much. The dining hall had been closed off, accessible now only by staff and benefactors. To new wings had been added on for an auditorium and gym. Humongous rooms had been gutted and divided into classrooms. Nevertheless, Steve remembered when Grace had told him about the secret tunnels inside the walls. Despite the fact that the tunnels weren't even present on the new blueprints seemed to give credence to the fact that they had all been destroyed during the renovations from 1957-1960.

Steve's gut clenched, and he fisted his hands on the edge of the hub. While he knew hoping to find a secret passage that survived the purge, was a long shot. He had still hoped it would be that simple. In one last-ditch attempt, he had called Lea Keawe youngest son. Kealohi, who now managed the Nani Uhane foundation that funded Hillman-Grant, was startled by the request but had agreed to search his mother's records for anything that might prove helpful.

Fisting his hair in frustration drew in a deep breath through his nose in a desperate bid to keep his temper. He couldn't help but wish that Grace had gone to Waikiki with Stan and Rachel. If he wasn't so twisted in knots at the thought of his surrogate niece in the hands of those psychopaths. He would be able to keep his head clear of personal feelings and attachments. Yes, he cared about every child that was at the mercy of kidnappers. Despite his awkwardness around most kids, he had a strong paternal streak and he would slaughter each thug in there with his bare hands to keep them safe. But he still would have been able to retain his tactical edge. He wouldn't be spending valuable time second-guessing his instincts. His instincts were what saved his life more times than not and long ago he had learned to trust them. Now he was faltering and he hated himself for it. Gracie need him strong and sharp so he could figure out a way to get her safely home.

"McGarrett!" Chin called suddenly, startling him out of his musings. Snapping to attention, he moved quickly toward his friend, scooting past a herd of workers who never once paused at the disturbance.

Coming to a stop behind Chin's station, he slouched down awkwardly to see the monitor. "I think we may have found our missing bus. Around 11:30, a school bus pulled on to Queen Liliuokalani Freeway off Moanalua Road, heading toward Honolulu toward UHWO. Take a look at this,"

Chin's fingers flew across the keys, as he brought up a traffic came feed. A large yellow school bus lumbered down the highway. To Steve it looked no different from any other bus full of kid heading into Honolulu for a field trip.

Noticing his skepticism, Mullet…Brian piped up, leaning sideways in his chair. "Wait a sec before you pull that face Commander. Chin pull up the enhanced screen cap…okay see that?"

Steve bent down further, following Brian's stabbing finger. Sitting in the driver's seat was a Caucasian male probably late forties to early fifties with a shiny baldhead, and aviator glasses perched on the end of his nose. From the neck up, he would look like any other hassled bus driver, chauffeuring a bunch of rowdy kids around the island that is until you happened to spot the bulky black vest strapped across his chest.

Relief sang through his blood. Finally, finally they had found something. His fingers tightened convulsively on the worn black fabric of the desk chair. It was nearly one o'clock now.

"Where did they get off?" Brian winced slightly glancing pleadingly at Chin.

Chin ho sighed, dragging a hand down his tired face. Before closing out the freeze frame and maximizing the traffic cam footage. Clicking play, he watched grimly as four more school buses appeared in the frame. "That's the problem, Commander. These guys are no low level bangers. Maybe ten minutes later four other buses pulled onto QLF from the Farrington Highway off ramp."

Steve scowled darkly, as the buses trundled down the highway. He kept his eyes fixed on the lead bus. He was slightly surprised when none of the other buses tried to camouflage the kidnappers escape. As the lead bus approached the Route 99 off ramp, the others followed suit.

"We were unable to track them onto the 99; the cameras were fried last week by a lightning strike. This is where it gets…well just watch"

Chin spat out, eyes narrowed at the screen as he brought up another feed, this time of a parking lot. All five buses were parked parallel to each other, their engines idling. The doors opened and an armed assailant wearing a dark ballcap, aviators, and vests stepped down from each bus. They then stood outside the bus door; they grasped the AK swung across their chests. His teeth popped and creaked slightly, beneath the pressure of his clenching jaw.

Sons of bitches.

He watched helplessly as students filed out of the first bus in groups of threes. Crying and shaking a total of fifteen kids were divided between the reaming four buses. Once everyone was tucked inside the guard stepped aboard once more, and they were off. Turning out of the lot in every direction. Two headed west, one north, another south, and the last one east. He cursed, violently slamming the palm of his hand against the top of the chair.

All around his analysts flinched; Brian cowered in his chair hugging his laptop to his chest as if afraid he would break it in his anger. It was a logical assumption.

Chin however turned and met his eyes. Onyx met hazel and shared a grim look. Whoever did this would pay.

On the desk, the phone rang, shattering to oppressive silence.

"Yeah…uh command center…no…no way…holy leaping Tribbles! Commander! Commander get over here." Jefferies shouted, jumping up from her seat, and doing what looked like a nervous rendition of the Jarabe Tapatío (the Mexican hat dance).

Steve's back cracked as he snapped to attention. The absolute shock on the woman's face hurried him along. Analysts yelped in complaint as he wheeled the out of his way.

He reached her in five long strides. She stood there, mouth gaping open and bulging as she danced about. She met his eyes and flapped her jaw wordlessly, before she held the phone out in an almost dazed reverie.

Furrowing his brows, he clasped the phone, raised it to his ear and answered crisply. "McGarrett."

"Oh thank God, Commander…this is Connie from dispatch. We have a caller on the line claiming to be hiding inside Hillman-Grant with two students…" Connie tittered nervously over the line.

Two students.

Dear God.

Suspicion warred with a bright gleam of hope. "Name?" he questioned curtly. Connie gulped. "Uhm…uh…shoot hold on…uh where is…here it is a Melanie Nickels… said she works in the guide…"

"Patch her through." He snapped cutting her off, his fingers tightened on the receiver.

"Uh yes, Commander…Sir…ugh…right…" Connie stammered slightly, and Steve felt a brief flash of guilt. Under normal circumstances, he would apologize, but now it would have to wait.

The line clicked slightly and heard a buzzing silence. "Miss Nickels?"

"Oh thank God." A voice gasped out softly.

Hope flared inside him. "Can I ask you your ID number, for verification please?"

He snapped his fingers at Jefferies, who snapped to action holding up a bright pink note-pad with the rogue guidance counselor's ID numbers scrawled across it in bright green highlighter.

"Uh…okay…292153…would you also like to know my cup size or will that suffice?" she remarked waspishly.

Steve's lip ticked up slightly as he held his thumb up too, Jefferies.

She grinned widely, and the room let out a cheer. Chin appeared at his shoulder, and clapped him on the shoulder in celebration. One of the techs shot out of the door, probably to find Grover.

"Well am I glad to hear from you. I'm Commander Steve McGarrett with Five-0. You said you had students with you…could I get their names please?"

Chin went rigid, hands clenched into fists, lips pressed into a thin grim line.

Steve's heart leapt into his throat.

The odds were against one of those kids being Gracie, and he tried to quash that unlikely hope. Lou Grover re-entered at that moment with the tech, meting his gaze and smiling slightly in relief.

There was a slight rustle of static over the line. "Right…I have Travis Wilkins and…sorry sweetie what's your last name?"

He heard a slight murmur of a voice but couldn't make out if it was male or female.

"And Grace Williams."

His world seemed to tilt as all the air rushed from his lungs.

His knees nearly gave way.

"Please repeat that last one."

"Uh sure, Grace Williams…you okay there Commander?" He locked eyes with Chin and grinned.

Chin seemed to come alive, beaming and pumping his fist in celebration. Going as far as to embrace Grover in his joy. Leaning over his arm, Jefferies pressed a few buttons on the phone and the speaker crackled to life. She took the receiver from his nerveless fingers and replaced silently in the cradle.

"Put Grace on the phone."

Melanie didn't question him, though he could practically feel her confusion through the phone.

_"Hello?"_ a teary voice whispered.

Chin beamed, coming forward to lean against the desk.

His heart lurched and melted at the same time. Catching his reaction, Jefferies pushed her discarded chair toward him. Without protest, he weakly collapsed into it. "Oh God, Gracie. Are you okay?" he questioned, clenching his hands into fists to stop the tremors that accompanied the rush of adrenalin.

_"Uncle Steve!"_ she cried out softly. _"Is Daddy there too?"_

His heart fractured slightly. "No, sweetie he is with your mom and Stan, and all the other parents. But you've got me and Chin."

"Hey Grace, you okay?" Chin piped up in a low soothing baritone.

She sniffled slightly. _"I'm fine; we're hiding in the Chem lab now... I'm scared, but okay. I've been with Miss. Nickels and Travis the whole time. Miss. Nickels' arm is cut pretty bad, and Travis is fine too."_

Gratitude, for a woman he didn't even know, speared through him like a harpoon.

_"I want Danno and Mom. They're probably worried."_

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, as agony tore through him. He would be willing to endure torture if he never had to hear that tone, in Gracie's voice again.

"I know kiddo, how about I go call Danno and your Mom right now. Tell them that you're okay, would that help?"

_"Yeah, but don't tell them I'm scared Uncle Chin. I don't want them to worry."_

Chin Ho Kelly just about melted into his boots. That was the first time she had called him Uncle and it warmed him quicker than a Hawaiian summer day.

"Okay, I promise. I'll see you soon, alright kiddo?"

Grace made a small noise of acknowledgement, and Chin reluctantly hurried out to make that call.

"Gracie, you listen to me honey. We are going to get you out of there safely. I promise, and then I will take you anywhere you want to go." He promised her, with a slight grin.

_"Promise?" _

"Hey, come on now who are you talking to? Have I ever let you down before?" He questioned forcing a teasing lilt.

_"Okay,"_

He sighed reluctantly; as much as he wanted to talk to her for hours, he knew he needed Melanie back on the phone. "Gracie, can you be brave for me for just a while longer?"

Gracie gave a hum of agreement.

Steve grinned slightly, in pride. Well he was a proud Uncle after all. "I need you to put Miss. Nickels back on the phone."

With acute disappointment, he listened as Grace tried to grab Melanie's attention. The phone was passed over, and he frowned as he heard the sounds of liquid sloshing into glass. Steve frowned, straining his ears; he heard the slight clink of bottles.

"Miss. Nickels, what is that sound?"

_ "First off it's Melanie, only Sister Mary-Helen calls me Miss. Nickels. Secondly, I'm mixing up a little…surprise for our 'friends'."_ Her voice had a slight menacing tone to it.

He arched a brow, he was almost afraid to ask. "And just what would that be?"

He heard a slight hiss of a chemical reaction.

_"Self-igniting Molotov cocktail."_

Grover groaned behind him. "Dear God."

Steve smirked slightly.

She was a Devil Pup.

He wouldn't expect anything less.


End file.
